


Put A Ring On It

by Mimm



Category: Bon Cop Bad Cop (2006)
Genre: Gay Bar, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/pseuds/Mimm
Summary: The usual: Two cops working on a case undercover in a gay bar. Of course something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong.Takes place after the first BCBC. No sequel knowledge is required.





	Put A Ring On It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoAxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoAxes/gifts).



> TwoAxes, you listed so many wonderful likes and prompts that I had trouble deciding what to focus on. ♥ I hope this works for you even a little.

Martin may have looked like a gay accountant back in the day, but he seemed oddly out of place in this club crowded by gays and probably a few accountants as well. David looked at him, standing on the other side of the room by a pillar, gently leaning against it with one leather-shoed foot crossed over the other, in a dark striped suit reminiscent of a mafia member. All he needed was a cane and a hat.

He glanced back at David but made no sign of recollection as he let his focus slide over the rest of the club. Their target was there somewhere. All they had to do was locate him.

Someone touched David's hip and he jerked to the side, annoyed by the interruption, muttering a curse.

"Buy me a drink?" someone to his right said in English, and he looked right and then up. A tall ginger man in his 30s, vaguely geek chic and wearing a rainbow scarf, looked down at him with a flashy smile on his face. Charming, yes, but David wasn't interested in hooking up with anyone today, so none of that was going to work on him.

"Pardon, je ne parle pas anglais," David said. The man looked a little disappointed before he disappeared in the crowd. David glanced at Martin who was now looking back at him, half a smirk on his face. David felt the urge to go and slap him, turning his back on him instead.

He was faced with another man around his age, big and bald and vaguely intimidating until one saw his glinting puppy dog eyes. He was giving David a suggestive look. David shook his head, feeling almost bad about it, and groaned to himself.

It had been his suggestion to try and catch their guy in his natural habitat, but he had begun to regret his suggestion within the first fifteen minutes of their entrance. Now he was beginning to make escape plans that didn't involve having to tell their boss they had never really begun. He couldn't figure out a single one apart from faking appendicitis, and he wanted to save that for a real emergency.

He took another sip of his beer, non-alcoholic and not very good, and tried to look for the curly blond man that was supposed to be there. He saw a lot of curls and a lot of blonds, but none of them were the right one.

His eyes stopped on the back of a dark-haired man who was standing between him and Martin, placing his hand on Martin's wrist as he leaned into say something in his ear.

David muttered to himself and began marching towards the two, clenching his fists and wondering if he could punch the guy once or twice without causing trouble. Just once or maybe twice, no more.

"Excuse me," he said in English, pulling the man aside by his elbow. The man, around his height, looked at him. He seemed annoyed.

"What?"

"You can't hit on this man," David said.

"Excuse me?" Martin raised his brows and let out an amused chuckle.

"You can't hit on this man," David said, and raised his left hand. There was a ring there, his old wedding ring, and even when David didn't say anything, he could tell the man understood the implication, however false it was.

"Okay, okay," the man said, raising his hands. "Sorry I think your husband's hot."

David gave him a glare as he walked away.

"He says I'm hot," Martin said, looking smug, positively preening.

David made a face at him.

"We have a job to do," he said. "The job doesn't include boy toys."

"He was hardly boy toy material."

"You mean you actually want him for longer?"

Martin laughed. It was the first time David had seen him genuinely laugh since they'd been forced together on this case. Something about it infuriated him.

"No," Martin said, the smile fading away. David felt a chill, as if they room had gotten a few degrees colder.

"He's not here, is he?" Martin continued, serious now.

David glanced around and saw the same exact faces he had seen a while earlier. The ginger guy was now chatting up the bald guy, and David wondered if he was simply going through everyone at the club or if he thought David and that bald guy were somehow alike. What an odd thought. 

"No, but he might come later."

When David saw the bald guy take the ginger guy up on his request, he nodded to himself. Good on them.

"True," Martin said, and David frowned, tracking back to what he had just said.

Martin took the can of beer off his hand and took a sip. His brows furrowed a tiny bit at what David assumed was the taste.

"So what do we do now that you've blown our cover?" Martin asked. "Now neither one of us is going to get close to him when everyone thinks we're married."

Martin wasn't wrong. David knew he had screwed up. It was his style. His trademark. There were moments when he almost felt proud of it but this was not one of those moments.

Thinking on his feet, David considered their options. They could call it a bust and leave, then try and explain their failure to their bosses. Not the ideal option but a doable one, and they would probably get to keep their jobs. Or they could keep going.

"Fancy a third wheel?" David asked, feeling his mouth quirk, and Martin stared at him.

"Fancy a what now?"

"I've heard my hot husband is a little bored," David said, trying to keep his cool. "Maybe we could get some refreshments here."

"I see. Like maybe a curly blond?"

"Oui, mon amour."

David could feel his pulse rising, and he found himself wishing Martin would take him up on his ridiculous offer.

"You owe me a ring, though," Martin said and raised his hand, wiggling the ringless fingers.

David took the beer can off Martin's other hand, pulled the ring pull off, and gave it to Martin.

"And people ask why I married you," Martin said as he took the ring, shaking his head.

Mid-shake, he stopped. David followed his gaze and saw what he had seen. Blond, check. Curls, check. Scar across left eyebrow, check. A black leather jacket with a very specific clan emblem on it, check.

"Should we?" Martin turned to look at him, grabbing him by the elbow like a proud owner.

David turned to him, and without thinking, put his hand on Martin's cheek and leaned in. It was long overdue, he knew, and now he had a valid reason. He closed his eyes and gently let his lips touch Martin's lower lip, feeling the faintest hint of stubble against his skin. Then, tilting his head a little, he pressed his lips against Martin's for a full kiss. Tense at first, relaxing into it as Martin parted his lips and smiled against the kiss, the sensation of his tongue against David's like a jolt. The beer still didn't taste excellent but there was a definite improvement, David thought. He pulled away, eyes still closed, until he could no longer avoid opening them.

Martin's eyes were in a puzzled frown but he was smiling.

"What was that?"

"Playing the part," David said, feeling his hand shake.

"Well, you're good at it."

"Am I?" David said, wanting to turn it into yet another joke.

"Maybe a bit too good," Martin said, and David couldn't read his eyes, try as he might. Or maybe he could, but he wasn't sure what he thought he saw was really true.

"You want to quit?" David asked, turning to look at their target who was now mingling with the crowd like the drug lord millionaire that he was.

"Yeah," Martin began, and David got an uneasy feeling he had fucked up. But there was an amused glint in Martin's eyes. "I think I might have a date night with my husband. Drug lords should wait."

David stared at Martin, unable to tell if he was pulling a massive joke on him or if there was a hint of truth to his words.

"What about the boss?" he asked.

"Well, I haven't had an acute ulcer yet," Martin began. "I heard they can be pesky when you're under a lot of stress. And I am under a lot of stress with you, aren't I?"

David could feel a grin spread across his face.

"We should go get that checked," he said, then nodded towards the blond man. "Before he sees us. Try again next week?"

"Excellent idea."


End file.
